Tag Archive for: Whiskey

Saying Goodbye Gracefully

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by Evelyn David

I’ve always been intrigued by the paranormal (see our Brianna Sullivan series), so when Medium, a television series about a psychic who assists the Phoenix, Arizona police department debuted in 2005, I was quickly hooked. I followed the series from NBC, who cancelled it after five years, to CBS, who cancelled it last month. I looked forward to the series finale with a combination of sadness and anticipation of how they would wrap it all up. Sigh. What I got last Friday night was an unholy mess. *Spoilers Ahead*

Multiple time jumps, fake dreams, an airplane crash, a Mexican drug cartel, cars exploding, eight years of amnesia, seriously there wasn’t a cliché they missed. There were moments when I expected Bobby Ewing to come out of the shower and tell Alison that all her dreams were just that – dreams and not psychic revelations. Even the last few seconds in the episode where Alison joined Joe in the hereafter after forty-some odd years apart didn’t work for me – instead of satisfaction that the couple would be together forever, it just felt like the writers were pouring salt on a wound. I didn’t want to learn Joe died and missed his kids growing up. I didn’t want to know Alison had to spend more years without him than she’d had with him. I didn’t particularly want to know about the kids’ grandchildren. I’d much rather have seen another episode that showed the characters doing the things they’ve done for the last seven years – Alison dreaming her dreams and waking up Joe in the middle of the night, Joe struggling to earn a living, and the kids fighting around the breakfast table. I wanted more of the same. Even if the series was cancelled, I wanted to be able to keep the family alive – well and happy – in my imagination.

Which got me to thinking about how authors treat the last book in a series. Lesson learned: You need to put the same amount of energy and creativity into ending a series that you put into that first book – the book where you were trying to engage readers into wanting to see more. Finales need to be respectful of both the characters and the audience. Do it well, and readers are anxious to read new books and new series you present. Do it poorly, and the bitter taste can wipe out all your earlier hard work.

J.K. Rowling understood the Herculean task she faced in ending the Harry Potter saga. While some readers might quibble with the length and events of the seventh book, most were extremely satisfied that she not only gave a powerful climactic battle between the forces of good and evil (the recurrent theme in all seven books), but she also provided an epilogue that gave a glimpse into the future of the main characters that her audience had grown to love. She didn’t ignore the harsh realities of the world she had created, and in fact, killed off several beloved characters. But to her credit, she was respectful in her treatment of their deaths and their demises made sense in the context of the storyline.

Ending a series is never easy for authors or fans. Fans will always expect more than the writers can give. They don’t want the series to end so any ending is often less than satisfactory. Most authors love the characters they’ve created and the line between fiction and a place at the kitchen table is mighty thin. Both halves of Evelyn David talk about Mac, Rachel, Brianna, and even Whiskey the Irish wolfhound, as if they were extended members of the Dossett and Borden families. So when we decide, if we ever decide, that it’s time to bring a series to a close, we know what we need to do and what we absolutely shouldn’t do. In the meantime, we’re still enjoying their adventures and plan to continue plotting murder and mayhem with them.

Stiletto Faithful: what finales, in books or television series, did you think were handled well? Which sucked?

http://www.evelyndavid.com
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Brianna Sullivan Mysteries – e-book series
I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries– Kindle – Nook – Smashwords
The Dog Days of Summer in Lottawatah– Kindle – Nook – Smashwords
The Holiday Spirit(s) of Lottawatah– Kindle – Nook – Smashwords

The Sullivan Investigation Series
Murder Drops the Ball (Spring 2011)
Murder Takes the Cake – Paperback – Kindle
Murder Off the Books – Paperback – Kindle
Riley Come Home (short story) – Kindle – Nook – Smashwords

I Love Old Movies

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I’m a sucker for old movies. I don’t need Technicolor or over-the-top special effects to produce a four-hanky sob-fest. Thank goodness for Turner Classic Movies. Their movie vault is filled with black-and-white, sudsy films that make me turn to goo.

Recently I watched Journey for Margaret, a heart-warming World War II flick with Robert Young and Margaret O’Brien in her motion picture debut. Released in 1942, it was the early days of America’s involvement in the War, and the story centers on a hardened newspaper reporter’s efforts to bring two orphans to the States. When he is forced to choose only one, your heart breaks for the little boy he must leave behind.

I also watched an absolutely silly, inane , but ultimately very sweet movie, A Date with Judy, released in 1948 with Jane Powell and a very young, waist-no-bigger-than-a-wasp, Elizabeth Taylor. This was the post-war equivalent of Beverly Hills 90210, but with actors with actual talent. Amazing to think that Liz Taylor and Robert Stack get secondary billing because they’re not the “stars” of the film. But as ridiculous as the plot in this film is – and trust me, any film with Xavier Cugat, a Chihuahua, and Carmen Miranda as the B-storyline is dumb – nonetheless, I actually cared whether Judy and Oogie (Jane Powell and Scotty Beckett) reunite and whether Carol and Stephen (Taylor and Stack) can overcome his prejudice against family wealth.

It’s funny that I can wax rhapsodic about these two movies, which is in stark contrast to the movie reviews I’ve been hearing from Rhonda, the Southern half of Evelyn David. She recently spent hard-earned bucks on two new blockbusters, and walked away disappointed in both. It wasn’t the acting. Rhonda assures me that George Clooney is still wonderful eye candy and Angelina Jolie has all the right stuff to be a convincing double (triple?) agent.

But at the end of both movies, she didn’t care what happened to George or Angelina’s characters. Without offering too much of a spoiler for either film, let’s just say that there was no Disney happy ending for anybody – and Rhonda wasn’t invested enough to be concerned.

Whether it’s a 1940s teen movie, a 2010 blockbuster, or the dog-eared copies of old favorite mysteries and books we’ve read and re-read, it always comes down to character. Does the audience identify with the fictitious people of screen or page? If not, then whether or not the protagonist lives to see another day or dies a noble death is quickly discarded into the “who cares” pile. All the fantastic car crashes and outrageous stunts can’t save a movie where you barely remember the main character’s name after the first fifteen minutes.

Watching these films, re-reading old favorite mysteries where I remember whodunnit on the first page and it doesn’t minimize the pleasure one iota, makes me take my own writing apart, sentence-by-sentence. I want my readers to care about Mac Sullivan, Rachel Brenner, most especially about Whiskey the Dog. I want readers to wonder if Mac can overcome 50+ years of commitment-phobia; I want to make sure that readers empathize with newly-divorced Rachel as she awkwardly re-enters the social scene; while at the same time, I want to baffle and surprise the reader with a mystery that is sophisticated and smart. Tall order, indeed.

But isn’t that what I signed up for when I listed mystery writer on my resume?

Stiletto Faithful, please share with me your favorite movie and why it has such lasting appeal.

Marian aka the Northern half of Evelyn David

Evelyn David’s Murder Takes the Cake

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Weddings can be murder! Murder Takes the Cake is the sequel to Murder Off the Books. Private Detective Mac Sullivan and his furry sidekick, Whiskey, are back for more mystery, romance, and fast food. For a taste of the “cake,” read the excerpt below:

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Time seemed to pause, then Mac sensed, rather than heard, the initial crack. Instinctively, he ducked behind the open car door, but his reflexes weren’t quite as fast as they used to be. Damn middle age. He could feel the flesh on his right arm burning, knew the wetness soaking his clothes and dripping down his hand was blood.

More bullets slapped into the car door, breaking the window and showering him with cubes of safety glass.

“Get down.” He hissed a warning to Merrell, but was much too late. Amid a third volley of bullets, Mac saw the Boston cop was face down on the asphalt, hand still in his pocket reaching for his wad of cash.

A bullet ricocheted off the door, striking the floorboard only a few inches from Mac’s hip. He needed to be somewhere else and quick. The bullet rounds continued. The shooter had to have more than one weapon or he’d reloaded.

Mac reached for his gun, tucked in a holster next to his left shoulder. The well-practiced movement was almost impossible. His right arm ached. His shooting hand was slippery with blood and felt strange…weak. He looked to make sure he was actually holding his gun.

The motel dumpster, twenty feet away, would offer more protection than an ancient Cadillac door. He decided to chance it.

A hail of bullets erupted as soon as he started running. One bullet bounced off the asphalt uncomfortably close to his left foot. He was three feet from the dumpster when he crouched and pivoted to return fire. The shooter was well hidden. Mac knew better than just to point and shoot. He needed to verify his target. If he could see the muzzle flash, he’d consider firing.

He never got that chance. Another rounds of shots and suddenly he found himself flat on his back, fur in his mouth, a 120-pound wolfhound as his personal bulletproof vest.

Squealing tires signaled the all-clear.

“Get off.” He attempted to push Whiskey off his chest, but the dog refused to budge.

“It’s okay, girl.” He tried to soothe the dog, running his left hand along her back. The quivering furry body told him she wasn’t convinced, although she appeared to be unhurt. A few more not-so-gentle pushes and Whiskey reluctantly gave up her perch.

Mac tried to sit up and failed. He’d twisted a muscle in his back when he fell; the muscles in his lower back had seized up. He rolled to his side and crawled next to the dumpster. Leaning against the cold metal, he propped himself upright gingerly and took inventory.

His arm throbbed. His favorite jacket was sliced open and damp with blood, probably ruined. With his left hand, he fished a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped the makeshift bandage around his upper arm. Conclusion–battered, but he’d live. Whiskey whined and Mac realized she was pacing the space between him and Merrell. For a moment he’d forgotten about Merrell.

Gritting his teeth against the pain in his back, Mac reholstered his gun and crawled over to the body sprawled twenty feet away, across two parking spaces. Judging from the exit wound that had taken off the back of the man’s skull, Mac knew there wasn’t much point in feeling for a pulse, but he did anyway. There was none.

He could hear sirens in the distance. Somebody had called the cops, but they were too scared to come out to the parking lot to help. He couldn’t blame them. Flying bullets don’t usually encourage heroics. Not from strangers.

Mac reached into Merrell’s pocket and withdrew the wad of cash. He shoved twenty back in so the cops wouldn’t think it was a robbery. He’d make sure Merrell’s kids got the money, like he promised.

The ache in his arm was increasing; winning the competition with the pain in his lower back. His gunshot wound now had his full, undivided attention. Mental exhaustion was also beginning to take a toll. Or maybe he was going into shock. Mac leaned against the Cadillac’s wheel and waited with his nervous dog for the cops to arrive. He had to figure out just how much explaining he was willing to do. It went without saying that Whiskey would go along with whatever version of the truth he told the police. Partners did that sort of thing.

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Murder Takes the Cake by Evelyn David

Buy the Kindle version at Amazon

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Buy the e-Pub version at The Digital Bookshop

2nd Edition Trade paperback version coming this Fall from Wolfmont Publishing. Limited quanity of autographed 1st edition copies are available now at The Digital Bookshop. For more information click here.

Keeping Faith

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I once watched a wonderful British mini-series, full of galloping horses, lush landscapes, and inevitably, class wars. Poor orphan girl comes to the home of her rich, foul-humored uncle, and must decide if she loves her sensitive boy cousin, his swashbuckling wastrel brother, or the stable hand who is poor but sincere. Leaving aside the issue of whether marrying your first cousin is a good idea, I, of course, was rooting for the poor stable hand. To my delight, after much bosom heaving and weeping, she ends up with the guy with no money – which is okay because she has enough for them both.

I promptly went out and read the books on which this mini-series was based – and they were absolutely wonderful. A few years later I was delighted to discover a sequel to this saga. But to my horror, the author had decided that class will out. She broke up the marriage of rich girl, poor boy, so that the society b**ch could marry within her own class – her newly-reformed rich cousin. Ugh.

As defined in the dictionary, a sequel is “a literary work, film, etc. complete in itself but continuing a story begun in an earlier work.” So while I’m the first to agree that an author has the right to do whatever she wants, for me, this particular writer betrayed the basic premise of the first books. We had a deal: true love trumps fancy schmancy class distinctions. She broke faith with her readers (or at least this one). It’s as if Margaret Mitchell wrote a sequel to Gone with the Wind and had Scarlett subdivide Tara into a housing development of McMansions. Or Thomas Harris penned a sequel where Hannibal Lecter became a vegetarian.

I love reading mystery series. It’s like meeting up with old friends. I want to know what has happened since the last time we were together. While I want a complete story that can stand on its own, I want to recognize the characters I’ve grown to love. I have no problem with personal growth in the characters, but they have to retain the essence of who they are. I promise when you read Murder Takes the Cake (due in May 2009), that the delightful Mac Sullivan, Rachel Brenner, and Whiskey are all back in prime form.

What’s the best – and the worst – sequel you’ve ever read (or saw if it was a movie)?

Evelyn David

Does the Dog Die?

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The Southern half of Evelyn David thought things had gone pretty well. It was her first library talk after the publication of Murder Off the Books. Good turnout, delicious refreshments, the group had laughed at the jokes and listened with interest to the creative process that goes into writing a murder mystery. She opened up the floor to questions.

“Can you promise me that no dogs or humans are killed in your book?”

Hmmmm.

Well, it was easy enough to promise the first. We guarantee that no animals were harmed in the creation of this mystery.

But as to the second? No vows could be made.

In fact, as a murder mystery, it seems to me that there is an implicit agreement between readers and the author: somebody will bite the dust. In Murder Off the Books, in fact, somebody kicks the bucket (or has the bucket kicked for them) in the first paragraph.

We decided to ignore the old showbiz warning: Never work with kids and dogs. Whiskey, the adorable and adored Irish wolfhound in our book, weighs 120 pounds, is six feet tall when she stands on her hind legs, and has never met a cheeseburger she didn’t enjoy. She instinctively knows the good guys from the bad guys, offers licks to those she loves, and growls to those who are dangerous. She brings warmth, goodness, and yes, humanity, to a book that explores the origins and effects of evil.

Animals in books serve many purposes – much like they do in our lives. Of course, Whiskey is a plot device. In Murder Off the Books, the hairy beast is a sounding board for our protagonist Mac Sullivan’s inner thoughts. Whiskey is also comic relief, our version of the gravedigger in Hamlet. She provides the audience with a laugh in the midst of murder and mayhem. And unlike the humans who surround her, Whiskey is clearly drawn with no shades of gray. Everybody, but bad guys, likes Whiskey.

But including a dog in the narrative is tricky. You have to appeal to readers without turning them off. I still can’t re-watch Old Yeller because while I understand the dramatic purpose of the dog’s death, I vividly recall the childhood trauma of hearing the rifle shot and understanding what had transpired off-screen. I’m perfectly fine with killing all the villains in whatever gruesome manner an author chooses – but anything with four legs must survive. Thank goodness Trusty in Lady and the Tramp had no more than a broken leg.

I recognize that over-crowded animal shelters and Michael Vick’s off-season “hobby” are clear evidence that, in real life, animals are frequently at risk. And yet, I can’t write fictional stories with that kind of storyline. It’s not that those books can’t be done with taste and care – but my imagination won’t let me travel that road.

Clio, the Irish terrier who shares my office while I write, fulfills many of the same roles that Whiskey does. She’s privy to my musings on how to create fictional havoc; she offers comfort when writer’s block descends; she’s always good for a laugh as she rolls on her back, four legs in the air, and waits for a tummy rub. Maybe that’s the reason why I can’t create stories where animals are harmed? It’s too close to home.

In the meantime, I’ll just re-read The Thin Man. I’ll visit speakeasies, sip martinis with Nick and Nora, and toss a treat to Asta. She’s a schnauzer with a nose for murder. I’d like to introduce her to Whiskey.

Evelyn David

Shoes Make the Writer

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I promise to circle back to shoes. This is the Stiletto Gang and since we’re women and we’re mystery writers, we were impressed with our little wordplay. I know nothing about stiletto knives, but as a shoe whore I’ve got plenty to say about stiletto heels.

But first, why another blog from a bunch of mystery writers?

Here’s the down and dirty, simple truth. Why not? We’re writers. Blogging is a way of touching base with fellow mystery fans; a way of promoting our books; and it’s what we do. We write (or play free cell).

I’ve been watching a lot of political debates lately and always sympathize with the candidate who has to give the first answer. Sure you get your point out early, but you just know that the other guy (gal) has an extra few minutes to figure out something cleverer to say.

So it was probably not the smartest thing to volunteer to write the first entry for The Stiletto Gang. But then it struck me that the best way to meet the challenge is to quote somebody smarter than me: Carolyn Hart.

At the last Malice Domestic, she explained why she wrote cozy mysteries. “In my books, the good guys always win.”

It was the proverbial light bulb moment. Now I knew why I loved writing mysteries. Mini-control freak that I am, writing who-dunnits gives me the opportunity to create a universe with the outcomes I want. In the world of Mac Sullivan, Rachel Brenner, and Whiskey, the adorable and adored Irish wolfhound, the good guys always prevail.

That doesn’t mean that I want a Pollyanna solving mysteries in her spare time. Sure there are days when I want life to be simple. I want some blessings that aren’t in disguise. But I want to create complex, multi-layered characters who encounter conflict and struggle not with black-and-white issues, but with all the shades of gray that life entails.

My good guys love coconut cream pie, and have the love handles to show for it. My heroines have ex-husbands who cheated on them, and they have footprints on their backs from being doormats. They have pasts that haunt them, futures that worry them, and bills to pay. Me too. The question isn’t whether evil exists in my world. It most certainly does. It’s just that I get to thwart it, one killer at a time.

Now, a tad late in the essay, let me say welcome to The Stiletto Gang blog. We’re four writers, although two of us share a name. Evelyn David has a split personality. I’m Marian, the Northern half, and I live in New York. Rhonda, the Southern half, lives in Oklahoma. Our first mystery is Murder Off the Books (Echelon, 2007). We’re frantically finishing the sequel, Murder Takes the Cake. Check out our web site, http://www.evelyndavid.com/, and discover the intriguing secret of how our book was written.

Tomorrow you’ll meet Marilyn Meredith. Marilyn is the author of the acclaimed Deputy Tempe Crabtree mystery series, as well as the Rocky Bluff P.D. series.

Wednesdays, Maggie Barbieri, author of the Allison Bergeron series (which has taken off like gangbusters), mans the helm.

Thursdays, Rhonda Dossett, the Southern half of Evelyn David, puts pen to paper (make that fingers to keyboard, but you get the drift.)

Fridays, we’d love to hear from you. Share your thoughts in a guest blog.

A promise is a promise. Let me circle back to stiletto heels. I’m a writer, so let’s be real. My default writing footwear is bedroom slippers. For dress-up, I wear a pair of black suede Merrell slip-ons. When I win an Edgar, I’ll wear stiletto heels. Promise.

My wish for you all: a world where the men are good looking; the women are brilliant and beautiful; the dogs are loyal and loving … and where the good guys always win.

Evelyn David